


Strings and Percussion

by lindoreda



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, Missing Scene, Music
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-04
Updated: 2015-04-04
Packaged: 2018-03-21 03:55:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3676431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lindoreda/pseuds/lindoreda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hearing his gentle piano playing, Demyx knew that Zexion understood. That was more than he could say for anyone else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strings and Percussion

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to move over some of my ancient kingdom hearts fics, and this was one of the ones that made the grade. It was written back in 2010, so some details may not match up with canon as we know it now, to say nothing of my writing ability, though I've edited it a little. Still, I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Originally posted [here](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/5721049/1/Strings-and-Percussion).

Demyx always asks new members if they play some kind of instrument. They never do. Demyx used to wonder if any of the older members did, but he doesn't ask. It's not that he's afraid, because that's obviously impossible. Rather, Xaldin's attitude toward art in general gives Demyx the impression that if his sitar didn't double as his weapon, Xaldin would have confiscated it.

"We can't understand art."

"We can't understand music."

"Fakes can only create fakes."

These words haunt Demyx, for Demyx writes and plays music regularly. He enjoys it. The others like to tell him that the enjoyment is just a memory triggered by the action, and that any music he writes must be mediocre in some way. A copy of what someone else has done, or what he has done in the past. Demyx brushes them off. They don't understand. Maybe they can't create, but surely he can. He's different, that's all.

Sometimes, Demyx imagines that Zexion understands.

The first time Demyx saw Zexion play, it was an accident. Bored after rushing through a mission, Demyx had wandered the corridors of the Castle that Never Was, stopping only when he heard the delicate sound of a piano. Once he heard it, Demyx couldn't rest without finding the source. He hadn't really expected to find Zexion in that out-of-the-way room, playing such a gentle, peaceful song. He hadn't expected the expression on Zexion's face as he caressed the worn piano keys with a loving hand.

Demyx hadn't expected to flee before Zexion could notice him.

Saïx hadn't thought it possible for the quality of Demyx's mission performance to drop any further, but it did. Demyx rushed through missions even more than before, just to hear Zexion play for longer, and it worked. Zexion was there every day, and no matter how quickly Demyx finished his missions, Zexion somehow got there before him.

Of course, if it hadn't worked out that way, Zexion would have discovered that Demyx was listening. Demyx knew he shouldn't try to make that happen (maybe Zexion would stop!), but at the same time, he wanted Zexion to know that he was there. That he understood the need for music in this empty state. That he… loved to hear Zexion play. In the same way that he himself "loved" to play. Listening to Zexion play the piano, Demyx almost felt whole.

Almost, but not quite. That "almost" kept him coming back, day after day, earlier and earlier.

One day, he was too early.

Demyx knew something was wrong when he didn't hear those sweet, flowing notes calling to him from down the hallway. He knew something was wrong when he peeked into the room, and found no Zexion within, coaxing the piano into producing haunting melodies. Demyx's emptiness came crashing down on him then, and he sank to the floor, leaning against the door. What had he expected? No matter how many times he listened to Zexion play, the emptiness never really went away. He just forgot about it. What had he really lost, now that Zexion had stopped playing for him?

Not that Zexion had ever been playing for him, really, Demyx reflected bitterly. He'd been playing for himself, so why should Zexion be concerned about who he affected when he stopped playing?

…Not that Zexion could feel concern. Or that Demyx could feel the distress and depression that he was currently acting out.

It never occurred to Demyx that he'd simply beat Zexion there, and that he could still listen to Zexion play if he'd take the trouble to hide himself before Zexion arrived. That's what made Zexion's sudden arrival wholly unexpected.

"I thought it might be you." Demyx's head snapped up sharply at the voice. The corners of Zexion's mouth curved upward slightly, reminding Demyx that, for once, Zexion was looking down at him, instead of the other way around.

"…You saw me?" Demyx's mouth was strangely dry. He didn't like it.

"Not quite," Zexion replied stiffly, refusing to make eye contact. "But stealth is not exactly your forte, and I heard that you continue to rush through your missions. I assumed…"

"You assumed right," Demyx finished with a half-smile, using the doorknob to pull himself to his feet.

"Apparently." Zexion agreed, slipping past Demyx and entering his piano room. "There is one thing that I would like to know, however. I cast an illusion on this room, so that no one would be able to hear me. How did you get past it?"

"Illusion? I dunno what you're talking about. I could hear you playing from pretty far away," Demyx offered with a confused scratch of his head, following Zexion into the room.

Zexion settled himself on the piano bench, absently running his fingers over the keys. "I suppose no illusion can keep the Melodious Nocturne from music," he remarked, though his forehead was creased in consternation.

"I guess not," Demyx agreed, his non-being quivering in anticipation. "Do you mind if I watch you play?"

"It's a bit late to be asking permission," Zexion observed, playing the opening notes of a ballad Demyx had heard him play before.

Demyx didn't apologize. No one ever does.

"It's such a sad song," Demyx murmured after a while, surprising them both. At some point, Demyx had moved from leaning against the door to standing directly behind Zexion, sending a blast of hot air into Zexion's ear when Demyx spoke.

"Why is it a sad song?" Zexion asked, like those English teachers who always want you to find the hidden meanings behind everything.

"It's a love song, right?" Demyx waited until Zexion nodded to continue. "If you think about it from our perspective, we can't love. A love song played by someone who can't feel love is sad."

"That is certainly true," Zexion agreed. "But this song wasn't written for or about Nobodies. Are Nobodies all that make this song sad?"

Demyx thought, watching Zexion's fingers travel up and down the keyboard, watching the tiny changes in Zexion's facial expression. "No," he finally said, "But I don't know why."

"That's right." Zexion's fingers stilled. "The way we are, it's impossible to know. We are incapable of understanding."

Sometimes, Demyx imagines that Zexion pretends that he doesn't understand. So, Demyx swears that he'll figure out the answer to what makes that song a sad one. Because it's absolutely essential that Zexion acknowledges Demyx's need for music, and admits to his own. If he can find the answer to that one question, the barrier will drop.

Demyx needs that barrier to drop. He thinks that it's the key to feeling fully whole. So he studies. Every evening after listening to Zexion, he pours over music books. He doesn't realize that he's falling into Zexion's trap. No one ever realizes.

Demyx thinks he's found the answer when he finds a book about the composer of that particular piece, and reports to Zexion that the song is sad because the composer was thinking of his dead wife when he wrote it. Zexion smirks, and tells Demyx that he's wrong. Demyx demands to know how exactly he's wrong.

"You found that answer in a book," Zexion replied. "Anyone could do that. The answer I wanted was basic human instinct. A feeling."

"But, we can't have…" Demyx stopped, realizing what Zexion is driving at.

"Feelings," Zexion supplied. "Without them, we can't understand. As I said before."

"But…" The word comes out like the whine of a cornered child.

"But what?"

"If you think that, why do you come here every single day to play?" Demyx needs this answer. He needs Zexion to be the same as him. Because there's no one else.

Zexion doesn't answer. He gives Demyx a look, as if to say, "why do you come to listen?"

Demyx and Zexion don't speak much for many days, but Zexion continues to go to that room and play piano, and Demyx continues to go there to listen. They both sense a change in the air, however. Zexion no longer becomes so absorbed in his playing that he forgets about his surroundings, or about his emptiness. Demyx's presence has made playing an experience of hyper-awareness, where every rustle of fabric and every quiet exhalation are like thunder to Zexion's sensitive ears. Demyx's smell, like resin and salt water, overpowers Zexion's nose. He can feel every grain, every indent in every piano key, even through his gloves. He can see every mote of dust as it floats down from the ceiling.

And he's never felt so empty in his entire life. Gone is the peace and forgetfulness that used to accompany his music. Now, not even for an instant can he forget what he has lost. And it is all Demyx's fault.

Why does Zexion continue to play? He doesn't know that his music fills the hole in Demyx's chest, and he would never act entirely for such a selfless reason. No, Zexion plays now because when he stops, Demyx leaves. If he stopped permanently, Demyx would leave permanently. Zexion wouldn't trade all the peace, quiet and forgetfulness for the feeling of Demyx's eyes boring holes into his face and hands. He knows that it's irrational to think this way. He knows that he's going to kill himself if he continues to live in this manner. He knows that the piano cannot help him anymore.

Sometimes, Zexion imagines that he's in love with Demyx. It's impossible, of course. But Zexion can't stop himself from thinking about what that would be like, were it possible. There had never been much of a chance before, surrounded by old men and forced to grow up far too quickly.

One day, Demyx rests his chin on Zexion's shoulder, trying to memorize Zexion's finger movements. Zexion turns his head slowly, until he and Demyx are nose to nose. Demyx doesn't notice immediately, so entranced with Zexion's fingers as he is. By the time he does notice, the music has stopped and Zexion is kissing him. Demyx doesn't know what to do. When he feels the cool touch of Zexion's hand ghosting over his face before tangling in his hair, Demyx decides to close his eyes and kiss Zexion back.

When they separate, Zexion rises swiftly from the piano bench and makes for the door. Demyx watches him silently.

"I'm going to Castle Oblivion tomorrow," Zexion announces from the doorway. "It looks like a long mission, so I won't be coming here for a while."

Demyx nods, even though Zexion can't see him. Zexion leaves without looking back. Demyx wonders if that kiss was a farewell. It was the only time they ever touched skin to skin.

When Demyx finishes his mission the next day, he finds himself back in Zexion's piano room. He doesn't plan on going there, but the act of walking there has already become a habit. Demyx enters the room, thinking that he might try playing the piano. When he sees the stack of paper on top of the piano, Demyx realizes that Zexion anticipated him. The papers, Demyx discovers, are the sheet music to every song Demyx has heard Zexion play, painstakingly written out.

Sometimes, Demyx believes that he's in love with Zexion. But that's impossible.

Using the sheet music and what he remembers of Zexion's hand movements, Demyx teaches himself to play piano. He wants Zexion to hurry and come back so that he can see Demyx's progress.

When Demyx hears that one of the Castle Oblivion members was annihilated, he knows that it wasn't Zexion.

When he hears that they were all annihilated, Demyx takes it in stride, laughs it off, and expresses his relief at not being one of them. He spends most of the night learning Zexion's sad ballad. When dawn breaks and Demyx can play it passably, he thinks that maybe he has the answer to Zexion's question now.

His mission performance that day is unusually bad, and Saïx discovers the piano. Even when Demyx explains that the piano is Zexion's and that he gave it to him, Saïx doesn't change his mind. The piano doesn't belong there. Now, all Demyx has left of those musical afternoons is the sheet music Zexion left him.

He doesn't touch it, preferring to return to composing his own songs for his sitar. For a while, everything seems like before he discovered Zexion's secret hideaway. Demyx jokes with Xigbar about his hit songs, playfully taking the jibes that come his way. But it's different now. Without Zexion, without someone else who needs music, music is suddenly empty.

No one notices that the Melodious Nocturne has lost his melody. No one ever notices.

Demyx doesn't expect to inherit Axel's mission to retrieve Roxas, after the redhead has failed and run away. He expects Saïx to send him after Axel, because, once cornered, Axel doesn't stand a chance against Demyx, but Saïx takes that job himself and sends Demyx after Roxas.

Demyx expects to lose the first time. He's just testing Roxas, though he's been told to bring him back. The second time, he's told not to bother coming back without their keyblade.

Demyx knows that he's going to die. He tries not to die, but there's no avoiding it. Demyx can't win and he can't flee. He screams when he knows that he's past the point of no return, but not because it hurts. Demyx screams because he can hear his water and the very fabric of his existence being ripped from him, and to his dissolving ears it sounds like his requiem, with Zexion's gentle piano playing over it all. Memories flash before his eyes, carried by the water that surrounds him.

"Our hearts were lost to the darkness," Zexion says from behind his lexicon. "When we die, we return to the darkness. To where our hearts are."

"That doesn't sound too bad," Demyx observes with a grin, reading over Zexion's shoulder.

"No," Zexion agrees with a half-smile. "It doesn't sound bad at all."

Sometimes, Demyx stops lying to himself, and admits that music was never what made him feel whole.

"Why do you come here every day to play?"

"Because you come to listen. Why do you come to listen everyday?"

"Because you're here playing."


End file.
